My Missed Connection

One of my favorite sites on the intertoobs is the Craigslist Missed Connections. For those who have no clue what this is, the missed connection site is where people can go if they feel like they missed meeting somebody that they stumble across in their daily life. Most people are quite content going about their daily life in ‘ant mode’, you know: go here, work there, eat here, sleep there… ad infinitium. Most everybody you encounter in the world is probably in some state of zombification, and I mean that is a natural response to the bigness and anonymity of the world.

However, there are some of us who are insatiable romantics. I’ll make a confession- I am totally obsessed with the missed connection section, precisely because it offers a snapshot into the quiet personal lives of our fellow citizens. The intimacy of having complete strangers share their inner monologues is something I am fascinated with. Maybe it is a vulgar glorification of the mundane, or an eventuality of Warhol’s 15 minutes, but it’s the genuine emotional content that I can’t ever get enough of. The potential that you, through your daily interactions in ‘ant mode’, will prompt enough response from complete strangers to expose their deepest desires on a public forum, it’s just painfully romantic.

I like the idea of an eventual cinematic release of a completely average persons life. The type of person that contributes to society in a minimal way, pays their taxes, makes good spaghetti, but has all the emotional depth of the most complicated literary figures completely concealed… that is the kind of story I like the most. And I feel like the missed connection page reads like those moments in a story that separate the boring trivialities (perhaps from an overly drawn out exposition) from the adventures. The best part about the whole thing is that most of these posts are from real people longing for their mundane lives to have that spark of adventure.

Maybe its pointlessly naive, but I still check the missed connection page everyday.

The funny thing is, I think I finally got one!

About a week ago, I was walking down Sherbrooke; it was damp and I was wearing my trenchcoat, belted. I passed you walking toward me along the black fence that surrounds McGill’s campus; you were wearing a trenchcoat, too; the same kind as mine. You were slim, had very nice features and dark hair, and I think you were wearing a nice shirt and a waistcoat underneath your coat. We exchanged a brief look as we passed, crossing the street (near the busstop, on Rue University…I think), a look that seemed to me to be at least a little meaningful, but we were both in a hurry and going in opposite directions.

Aside of the trenchcoat, perhaps you’ll remember me better if I say I had long, very blonde, very curly hair with dark roots, am quite skinny but broad-shouldered and curvy, 5’7″, high cheekbones. I was probably smirking a little; I do that. I think you were, too. I am a McGill student on hiatus; perhaps you are a student there as well.

On the off chance that this message reaches you, and that we both speak the same language, drop me a line! Maybe we could get together for coffee or a pint or even just a walk and see if we have anything else in common.

I responded:

I think I remember you, even though I was in a mad rush. What I do remember is that surprise and delight at seeing someone else (finally) rocking a mad trench coat– you actually made my day. Your face, however, is blurred with my distraction and memory, which is something I feel we need to remedy. I’d love a walk through this dreary rain, or maybe a nice warm conversation with some coffee to see what else we share, besides a taste for esoteric outerwear.

Long story short: It was me, and yes, we did get together for a coffee at a greasy-spoon diner. We chatted for 3 hours about dreams, Lovecraftian mythology and all manner of nonsense like we were old friends. We parted ways on a good  note, but ironically for us, the potential for a relationships ended when we kept missing each others connections… For the future, remember to specify both cross-streets when specifying a chain-joint to meet…

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~ by Andrew on April 7, 2009.

3 Responses to “My Missed Connection”

  1. Wow, little bit beyond what I was thinking. Hope to see more content like this.

  2. I feel exactly the same way. I live for moments of shy, quick eye contact and the glance back as I leave. Anyone introspective has this desire, and missed connections are the manifestations of it. I’d be inclined to say that all you need is love, but that’s a little too clicheed. It’s just so interwoven into all of my experiences… Not real love, necessarily, but a possibility sprung from everything in life.

    Here’s a poem that explains it so much better than I can

    Song – Allen Ginsberg

    The weight of the world
    is love.
    Under the burden
    of solitude,
    under the burden
    of dissatisfaction

    the weight,
    the weight we carry
    is love.

    Who can deny?
    In dreams
    it touches
    the body,
    in thought
    constructs
    a miracle,
    in imagination
    anguishes
    till born
    in human–
    looks out of the heart
    burning with purity–
    for the burden of life
    is love,

    but we carry the weight
    wearily,
    and so must rest
    in the arms of love
    at last,
    must rest in the arms
    of love.

    No rest
    without love,
    no sleep
    without dreams
    of love–
    be mad or chill
    obsessed with angels
    or machines,
    the final wish
    is love
    –cannot be bitter,
    cannot deny,
    cannot withhold
    if denied:

    the weight is too heavy

    –must give
    for no return
    as thought
    is given
    in solitude
    in all the excellence
    of its excess.

    The warm bodies
    shine together
    in the darkness,
    the hand moves
    to the center
    of the flesh,
    the skin trembles
    in happiness
    and the soul comes
    joyful to the eye–

    yes, yes,
    that’s what
    I wanted,
    I always wanted,
    I always wanted,
    to return
    to the body
    where I was born.

  3. […] That particular bout of post irony was prompted by my trenchcoat, which was also the genesis of my missed connection, which you can read all […]

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